


you were born, kid.

by orphan_account



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen, Siblings, The Bat Bunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LIfe is trying for one Damian Wayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damian and Jason Go on Patrol

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of various stories that mostly center around Damian Wayne.

“ _Must_ you do that?” He snaps, not looking away from the binoculars.

“Do what, batbrat?”

Damian would like nothing better than to punch his nose right then. He takes a deep breath in through his nose instead, counting to ten as he had earlier that evening. Grayson had assured him that the practice would rid him of the urge to kick Todd in the teeth.

Grayson is a filthy liar.

He had felt confident that “no unnecessary commentary and or activity” was enough of a basic guideline for patrolling with him. It seemed that Todd had smashed through all boundaries and proceeded to be as loud and obnoxious as a human being could possibly be.

Todd is _singing_ the _Jaws_ theme.

Not only is it distracting, it is also horrible singing. He has no concept of tune whatsoever, and Damian silently wonders what he did to deserve brothers who felt so compelled to share their horrendous musical tastes.

“You can’t even recognize what you are supposed to be singing,” he hisses under his breath, zooming in on the target.

Jason does not stop, nor is he in the least bit repentant. “It’s not my fault you remind me of a great white out hunting its prey,” he says with a shrug. As if that is justification for his infantile behavior!

He gives Todd a disbelieving look. Did no one value professionalism anymore or was he expecting too much from everyone? His question is answered when he resumes his butchered rendition of _Jaws_.

“Batman…” Robin growls over the comm link.

There are about fifty different threats that he is prepared to utter when he finally hears Grayson on the other end of the line.

He is singing _Mamma Mia_.

Damian makes a disgusted sound and throws the binoculars at Todd, who is actually _laughing_. “I am never patrolling with you again!” he mutters under his breath, shooting out a line.

He regretfully remembers that that is what he said last week too.

\---- 

\--- 

-


	2. we've made the most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so Jason Todd spent another birthday.

After a day of moping around in bed, Jason decided that, you know what? Fuck that. He had better things to do than roll around in bed. He could have been out at the Laundromat doing laundry. Better yet, he could have been killing cockroaches in his bathtub or cleaning his gun rack. Those were perfectly acceptable activities that he could have enjoyed doing today.

It isn’t any particular day, after all.

Glaring at the clock, as if willing time to move forward, he mutters to himself, before he gets himself out of bed and down to the Seven Eleven. Twenty minutes later, he’s back up in his room with an assortment of junk food and a few cans of beer.

Yeah. This is the life. Screw everyone else. He doesn’t need to log online to know that his inbox would be full with dickhead’s incessant ceremonial bullshit. For good measure, he glares at the laptop too. “Fucking laptop. Fucking dickhead. Fucking wireless signal. Goddamn.”

He’s fishing for a bag of Oreos when he hears a haughty little voice: “A little past your bed time, isn’t it, Todd?”

Jason doesn’t jump.

Fucking baby shit.

“Says you, brat,” he snorts. Opening the bag, he proffers it to the kid, who has an infuriating little smirk on his face. Jason does his best to fight the twitching of his mouth. Can’t have the baby bat thinking he’s easily amused or anything like that, because Jason’s not. Amused, that is.

“I don’t remember inviting you to this party.”

Damian sniffs. Fucking _sniffs_. Jason has to try really hard to keep his face from breaking out into a grin.

“As if I require an invitation to come _here_.” There goes the sniff again, like he thinks he’s some aristocratic cat or something. Jesus Christ, this kid is going to be the death of him.

“So you didn’t get it in the mail?” he asks, licking the cream off the cookie.

His expression turns into a disapproving scowl. Jason continues his licking. There is only one way to eat an Oreo; the kid just needs a nudge in the right direction.

“No.” Then comes the waffling. He does this thing where he chooses for words, where the lines around his mouth tense up. It’s sort of like what Tim does, but Jason knows that Damian would kill him for even mentioning a comparison to freakboy wonder, so he never does. “I was under the impression that you would like company…”

Oh. No. He sighs, rubbing his temple.

“If Dickie sent you, you can tell him to shove—”

“Grayson did not _send_ me!” he protests loudly. “He is not my keeper. I came because I wanted to!” Seconds pass and he looks a little horrified at what just came out of his mouth.

And Jason’s brows do a thing because he really wasn’t expecting that one. “Oh. Okay.” Yeah, he’s in control of his faculties here, definitely.

Damian shoots him a long glare before he gets up from where he was sitting. Fight or flight tactics kick in, and it looks like he’s choosing flight when he lets out a quick “Since it appears that you are unwilling to grasp the concept here, I will just leave you be, then.”

“Whoa, let’s slow down, baby bat. Don’t wanna make hasty decisions.” Jason’s not sure when this situation morphed into a Frankenbat monster where he’s placating the brat, but he’s not letting him leave just yet, especially not now.

For his efforts he gets a Seven Eleven bag identical to his own shoved into his face. Inside he finds the world’s chocolatiest cupcake, a pack of matches, and a candle. Jason looks up at Damian, then back down at the contents of the bag. Up and down. He isn’t sure what the intended response is supposed to be, but he’s pretty sure that this isn’t it. 

“Uh,” he starts.

The kid has the patience of a fucking saint; he interrupts him and starts to explain. “My research tells me that this is the customary act for one’s day of birth. I was unaware if you were amenable to something like this so I prepared it anyway. I apologize if it isn’t—” There goes the waffling again. He looks like he’s going to turn into a tomato at any minute, and Jason really doesn’t want to be the one to explain why his kid brother came back home turned into produce, so he cuts him off.

“No, it’s—it’s okay.” He looks down at the bag again. “I mean, I didn’t wanna do anything for…today, but it’s okay.” And he finds that it’s not untrue.

The boy moves wordlessly to grab the bag back, so Jason makes a preemptory snatch. “Hold up, I thought this was mine,” he says easily, holding the back out of his reach.

Damian’s brow furrows with concentration, watching as Jason takes out the candle and matches. He opens the plastic casing of the cupcake and grins up at him. The boy takes it as a cue and slowly sinks to the ground across from him, relaxing minutely. He pretends to preoccupy himself with the workings of the candle and gives him a moment to collect himself.

Jason doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday, and he doesn’t want any ceremony for another year of his life. He doesn’t want it and he certainly doesn’t need it. But he can’t deny that the kid’s effort makes his mouth turn up in an expression that mirrors Damian’s own. The moment doesn’t fade away even after he ruffles his hair and stops trying to hide his smile.

“Guess I have to make a wish,” he says, stroking his chin for effect.

“A wish?” His tone might be scathing, but there’s a look on his face that all ten year olds wear upon hearing that you get a birthday wish. It’s a little hard to swallow around the affection welling up in his chest.

He explains: “Yeah. I have to make a wish and I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” he demands, like he’s offended at the very idea. Jason stifles his laugh and puts on a solemn expression.

“Otherwise it won’t come true.”

A suspicious frown as he watches his face closely. “That’s not true,” he accuses.

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll find out, I guess.”

He closes his eyes and blows out the candle, thinking of all the things that he wishes for this boy.

\---- 

\--- 

-


End file.
